


Poised

by YvesAdele



Category: Samurai Jack (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Dubious Consent, Episode: s01e06 Jack and the Warrior Woman, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Ikra gets handsy, Jack kinda hates it, Jacku, Not Beta Read, Other, but kinda wants it, canon extra, dubcon, takes place during an episode, yeah it's that kind of fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:02:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvesAdele/pseuds/YvesAdele
Summary: “Give in, Samurai.” She nibbles at the lobe of his ear, repeating the motion. Jack squirms beneath her, hands still pinned by his head, torn wildly between wanting to scream at her to let him up and wanting to do exactly as she says, let her take him like this, relish in the pleasure surging through him despite his better judgment.“Surrender to me,” she whispers.Jack knows only one thing: Aku must die.
Relationships: Aku/Samurai Jack, Ikra/Samurai Jack
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Poised

It’s been years since Jack has felt this. The connection between them seems natural, instant. It’s like they’ve known each other for centuries.

Even if she did wound his pride just a  _ little _ by swooping in to save the day. 

He can’t even think how pitifully he would have died without her there to step in because of such a stupid mistake. He’s never dropped his sword in combat before!

The embarrassment of the memory, even now, burns his cheeks and makes him flush, and he averts his eyes from Ikra as they eat their dinner over the campfire. She hasn’t said a thing about it since beginning their travels together. It has been nearly two weeks walking across the desert. They lost their mounts only days ago to the lack of resources. In fact, the constant walking has been more a source of complaint from Ikra than anything else. Of course, if she would take off those shoes with the tall heels, the journey might be easier. They are traveling through sand, after all, and the pointed back of the shoe sinks in deep with every step, making more a chore of walking than it should be.

Other than that she doesn’t say much, aside from talking about her father. Her story is all too similar to Jack’s, parents held hostage for a price by the evil Aku. His reign of terror stretches farther across the land in this time than Jack’s darkest nightmares could ever have imagined.

Even with evil looming, Jack can’t help but be comforted by Ikra’s presence. There is something familiar about her, perhaps their experiences, that makes him feel somewhat at home. There’s something else about her, something akin to a hunting snake, calm but poised to strike. It leaves him uneasy, despite their time together, worried that something may set her off at any moment and she will snap and do something rash. This is an unfair observation, of course. They fought many monsters and beasts together, and she has done nothing but defend him and fight on his side, even when it meant putting her own life at risk.

Sometimes these things are not rooted in logic, but in instinct, he thinks, and with that thought he looks back across the flame at her. She smiles. It’s a small expression, more an acknowledgement of eye contact than anything else.

In the next moment she is by his side, resting her head upon his shoulder and her hand upon his leg.

Jack feels his face go hot at the contact. He is not accustomed to such casual touching, much less by a very beautiful woman in the firelight. He turns his gaze skyward, so not to look at her, and swallows, mouth dry. This he attributes to the harsh desert air. 

“You don’t have to be shy with me, Jack,” she says. Her voice is low, tone suggestive.

“I am not  _ shy _ ,” he insists...but he doesn’t look at her. 

The hand not on his thigh goes to his chest, where surely she feels his thundering heart, and dips between the folds of his gi. When he feels her hand against his flesh, he quickly moves to stand, the blush spreading from his cheeks down his neck. His ears burn.

Ikra just laughs, leaning in the sand. “What’s wrong, Jack? Sit back down.” She pats the ground where he’d been a moment ago. 

“It is late, and we should be resting,” he counters, walking to the opposite side of the fire and sitting.

Ikra pouts, sitting forward on her knees and slumping her shoulders. The movement accentuates her figure in the dim light, casts a glowing, fiery reflection on her chest, on the cleavage peeking out from the low dress. Jack averts his eyes, even closing them.

“Goodnight, Ikra.”

She laughs again. “Goodnight, Samurai.”

The night draws on. The crickets chirp, the stars twinkle, and the fire dwindles down to embers, crackling softly in the cool desert night. Jack can’t sleep. Ikra’s touch, her leer, her sultry and suggestive words and tone...they had all had an... _ effect _ . He lays on his side, facing away from the campfire, knees curled up to hide his reaction. His face still burns.

Well into the night, he is awake. He closes his eyes, tries to meditate away the feeling, the thoughts. He’s never been tempted so pervasively before. His adolescent years were all spent preparing to fight Aku, chasing his opportunity to prevail in battle. Not... _ courting _ . Additionally,  _ here _ and  _ now _ are hardly the time for these types of distractions! He isn’t even in the right time. He will have to leave her, have to return home, to his present - her past - far before she was ever conceived. 

“I know you’re still awake.”

He sighs in resignation and sits up, keeping his legs close to his torso. He doesn’t turn to face her. “I am having trouble sleeping,” he admits.

“Me too.” She’s suddenly near him, and he hears the rustle of her clothes as she sits behind him. “I can help you relax,” she offers.

Before Jack can object, she’s placed her hands on his shoulders - not what he thought she was offering - and begins rubbing circles at the base of his neck with her thumbs. Her hands are surprisingly strong, cool to the touch, and Jack feels some of the tension leave him. He’s embarrassed that he deduced another meaning behind her words.

“Oh, all these knots,” she practically coos at him, working his muscles and tendons so well that Jack almost forgets his predicament.

_ Almost _ .

“Let’s free your hair, Samurai. It will hold so much tension in that knot, you know. Trust me.”

“Um, I don’t--”

His protest goes unheard, and she removes his pin, setting it gently on the ground beside them. Jack feels his hair fall, down past his ears and neck, to his shoulders. He shudders.

“Isn’t that better?”

“I...suppose.” Keeping his hair in a tight knot all the time  _ does _ create some tension. She’s not wrong. Though he’s loathe to concede.

“Now,” she leans forward, and her voice is at his ear. Jack feels the flush return, and he squirms. Her hands are firmly on his shoulders, practically pinning him in place. “Why don’t you let me help you, hmm?” One hand slithers down his chest, again venturing beneath his clothes. He doesn’t jerk away this time, though his pulse thunders in his ears and he struggles to quell his trembling.

_ She’s extremely aggressive, _ he thinks. Her hand is cold on his chest, but it feels like he’s burning from the touch.

“Ikra--”

“Shhhh,” she places her other hand on his face, gently caressing, fingers brushing his lips. It shoots sparks through him, and his hands curl slightly where they rest at his knees. “Let this happen, Samurai.”

“We cannot be together,” he whispers, and he gently places a hand on her arm to still her.

“Who said anything about  _ being _ together?” she replies. “It’s been a long and lonely road, Jack. A man has needs. Hell, a  _ woman _ has needs.”

She moves to kneel in front of him, her dark form strange and liquid in the night. She rests one hand on his knee while the other still touches his face. “Don’t you want me?” It isn’t so much a question as an assumption, a riddle with a predestined answer, the way she says it, peering at him from beneath dark eyelashes.

“I cannot.” Jack reaches up and pulls her hand away from his face, holding it steady for a moment, feeling her tense in his grasp. “I’m sorry.”

It becomes clear that was not the answer she was looking for; with a sudden curl of her lip, and a small snarl, she lunges forward, threading her right hand into his hair and dragging him forward to press her lips into his. Jack is so startled by the movement, the sudden gesture, that, for a moment, he does not move or protest.

After that moment passes, the voice in his head shouts at him to push her away, to go on a walk and cool down and put these moments out of his mind. 

But...Ikra’s lips, though forcefully applied, are... _ soft _ . With his logical mind practically screaming, Jack finds himself unable to resist, leaning into the rough touch. She presses on further still, trying to deepen the kiss, and Jack can’t help it; he parts his lips, lets her tongue intrude, past his teeth, and he can  _ taste _ her in a peculiar, subtle way, like remnants of smoked wood on cooked food. He makes a soft sound as she plunges her tongue deep into his mouth. It’s a little uncomfortable, but the way her hand is tangled in his hair shoots adrenaline through him.

With her left hand, she takes his wrist and guides his hand to her waist, encouraging, holding the kiss deep. Jack makes a small sound at that, relenting to her guidance and gingerly touching her. Her waist is as cold as the rest of her, dress smooth to the touch. He doesn’t dare move, stuck between desperately wanting  _ more _ and knowing he should reject her advances, should push her away and say “no” more firmly.

As the battle wages between his sensibilities and his desires, Ikra swings her legs up and straddles his lap, pressing her torso to his, breaking the kiss only then to whisper, “I can  _ feel _ your arousal for me, Samurai.” The way she says it, low and almost menacing, sends a chill through Jack. He shudders.

“Still,” he whispers, suppressing a soft whine when she grinds against his lap. “Ikra, we should stop. This is not right.”

“Then stop me,” she growls, repeating the motion, this time more roughly.

The friction feels  _ good _ . Jack’s breath catches, and he grips her where his hand rests on her waist. She takes that as encouragement and unties his gi, which she pulls open. The cool night air bites his skin and he shivers. Ikra releases the grip in his hair to place her hands on his chest, pushing the clothing further back and over his shoulders. She leans down and kisses his shoulder, then his neck. He gives a startled  _ yelp _ when she sinks her teeth into the flesh there, and then, with surprising force, she pushes him backward into the sand. His arms are still in the gi, bunched up near his elbows. The strength, the  _ force _ , with which she presses onward, is...compelling and attractive. Worrisome. Undeniable. Dangerous.

She leans back to where she had been kissing him, and Jack cries out in surprise when he again feels the sting of her teeth in his flesh.

“Do you like that, Samurai?” She growls the question out, voice dangerous and low.

Jack swallows thickly, unable to protest because  _ yes, he does like it _ , but he also needs her to  _ stop _ because this is already so far past inappropriate. It’s crossed the line into  _ scandalous _ .

“Don’t worry,” she continues, “the mark will fade...eventually.” She swipes her tongue over the spot; Jack squirms, trying to pull his arms the rest of the way out of the robe. He isn’t sure what he’s going to do with his hands, but it has to be something other than just lying in the sand and letting her ravish him so.

Ikra sits back up and adjusts her position so that she’s sitting comfortably atop his now-quite-prominent erection. She gives a small wiggle of her hips that makes Jack’s vision swim and his head spin.

“Yes, you are enjoying yourself, I think,” she observes, smirking down at him. Jack’s face goes crimson, and he is thankful for the cover of darkness. His breath feels short, and his heart races, pounding fervently against his ribs. He doesn’t dare move at this point, nor speak, for fear of what his body might do or how his voice may sound.

Ikra continues staring at him with a fiendish sort of smile, and with a slow motion she reaches to the hem of her dress, pulling it back and revealing what is underneath:  _ nothing _ . Her flesh is bare against his fundoshi, and Jack stares for a moment too long before averting his gaze back to her face. He feels as though his heart may work its way out of his chest.

“Like what you see?” She hikes the hem up so that the dress doesn’t fall back down to cover her, and Jack finally breaks free of his stupor, pulling his arms up and out of his sleeves, only in time for Ikra to reach between them and unwrap the remainder of his clothes.

His dick practically  _ springs _ up as she does so, and for once the chill of the night is a relief against his hot skin, even if his state of now-total-exposure renews the blush on his face and sends it down to his chest, making him feel as though he is glowing. 

When he realizes what this means, and what Ikra’s intentions are, he manages to break through his silence as well. “Wait!” He grabs at her wrists, pulling them away from him. His breathing feels strained, his hands tremble, but he can’t continue, not like this. Not...his first time.

“We cannot,” he repeats. His voice carries much less conviction this time.

Ikra glances down, staring at his erect cock for an uncomfortably long period of time, before saying, “Hmm, looks to me like we definitely  _ can _ .” She takes her time bringing her eyes back up to his face, drinking in his form beneath her body. “Feels to me like we definitely should,  _ Samurai. _ ”

She twists her wrists from his grip, moving her hands to lace her fingers in his, then leans forward to kiss him again, pressing his hands down onto the ground on either side of his head.

Jack moves to push her away, but either he has become weak from arousal or she has become suddenly, impressively  _ strong _ ; he can’t break free of her grip, and her lips connect with his once again but rougher this time, hungry and demanding. She elicits from him a soft cry.

“I’m going to enjoy this, Samurai,” she growls, then dives back into the kiss.

With a weak effort, Jack struggles beneath her, turning his head finally to break the kiss off. “Ikra,  _ no! _ ” He manages.

“Why not, hmm?” She nuzzles his ear, grip on his hands tightening. “You keep telling me to stop, but I can tell that you don’t want me to.” The words are like venom, burning him and sparking a quiet shame within him that makes his chest burn and tears prick at his eyes.

She moves against him with her hips, more gently this time, bare flesh meeting bare flesh. Jack whimpers then, closing his eyes and panting softly.

“See?” she whispers some more. “This feels good, right?”

“I…” Jack swallows and turns to look at her. She’s smiling at him, softer now, almost the way that she had over the campfire. Something about it is still...too intense, too demanding. But she slides her hips against his again, and he can feel her dampness, and it doesn’t feel good; it feels  _ exquisite _ . His hips give a small jerk in response, and Ikra laughs, still holding him down.

“Give in, Samurai.” She nibbles at the lobe of his ear, repeating the motion. Jack squirms beneath her, hands still pinned by his head, torn wildly between wanting to scream at her to let him up and wanting to do exactly as she says, let her take him like this, relish in the pleasure surging through him, despite his better judgment. 

“Surrender to me,” she whispers, and she slowly lets go of his left hand. 

Jack turns his head back toward her, and timidly reaches up, grasping her upper arm with his now-free hand. She approves of this, corner of her mouth twitching up just a tad more, as Jack pants and struggles to stay still beneath her. She reaches down between them once more, and this time takes his cock in hand, giving a gentle squeeze. Jack huffs with a small gasp, and his grip on her arm tightens. Now is his chance,  _ push her off, stop this before it goes any further. _

Instead he lies relatively still, frozen, and she moves, guiding him and moving her body, and then he feels her, and this part of her is  _ warm _ and  _ wet _ and he slips inside of her. Ikra pushes down then, slowly, and Jack feels his body alight, spine tingling, warmth and heat spreading up into his belly and making his heart flutter and breath catch. He moans, softly.

“There, isn’t this nice?” Ikra’s voice is guttural, almost sinister, but Jack can hardly bring himself to care. He’s dizzy and feels light, and she rocks her hips, creating delicious,  _ amazing _ friction.

Jack lifts his head up, taking the initiative now to kiss  _ her _ , feeling a slight vibration in her mouth when she laughs softly.

Her grip has lessened on him and she braces herself in the sand, moving to pump her hips against his, and Jack meets her, matching the rhythm. If his eyes were open, he wouldn’t be able to see straight, colors shooting behind his eyelids as he finally surrenders. 

Her lips move against his, their bodies pressing together tightly as they move, and Jack is overwhelmed with sensation, her breasts soft against his body, legs pressing into his bare sides, skin cold but setting him on fire. Enthralled, he finally wraps his arms around her, pulling her tight, holding her close to him.

Ikra makes a sound, almost like a purr, and lets him take over. He holds on to her and lifts one leg, bracing against her thigh, and in a smooth motion rolls over so that he’s on top of her, never losing rhythm. His body knows what to do now, hips rolling and huffing soft pants from parted lips.

“Ikra,” he breathes,”I’m--”

Her nails dig into the bare flesh of his back, pulling him close and drawing another sound from his throat. She rocks her hips up to meet him, perfectly matching his rhythm.

“Surrender yourself to the pleasure,” she growls. “Surrender yourself  _ to me _ .”

Jack’s hips stutter; it’s all too much, the warmth of her body, the low timbre of her words, and he comes with a soft cry. His head falls to her shoulder. Breath comes in short, tired huffs. Her nails still dig into his flesh, and now that the heat of the moment has passed it’s painful. “Ikra,” he whimpers. Compounding it is a low feeling of regret, flipping over in his stomach and making his arms feel weak.

The grin on her face when he finds the energy to separate from her is almost sinister, lips curled up at the corners. Flickering firelight almost makes her teeth look like fangs. She stands, then wriggles her dress back down to cover her body and walks away, resuming her place on the other side of the fire to lie down and sleep.

With trembling hands and jelly for legs, Jack fumbles to replace his clothing. The cold, night air makes him feel particularly exposed. His chest aches. He glances at the sleeping woman, wondering what was on her mind. Was that it? Did she...climax, as well? He didn’t even get a chance to say anything to her, she just walked away.

Jack’s face burns and he sits beside the fire, alone with his thoughts and wracked with niggling guilt.

…

“The jewel! We have succeeded!” Jack cries. He raises a triumphant fist, tears pricking his eyes. All the sleepless nights, the tiresome battles, his inner conflict broiling a huge storm inside of him...it was worth it. They made it. Ikra stands in a victory pose, jewel held high over her head.

“At long last,” Jack says, “my quest has come to an end.” He could collapse with relief. All the tension from their long journey together slowly ebbs away, and Jack closes his eyes and bows his head, thanking his guardian angel.

_ Crash! _

His eyes snap open, head jerks up. The crash echoes in his mind. Birds scatter, startled by the sharp sound in their tiny paradise. Jack’s heart drops as his eyes go wide and his ears ring. He can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Ikra has thrown the jewel to the ground. Its shattered remnants lay at her feet, glinting green in the sunlight. She stands resolute for a moment, fists clenched, eyes closed, head hung.

She’s betrayed him.

A flood of thoughts rush through Jack’s mind. All the things that could have gone wrong, all the times she saved his life - surely she was not betraying him of her own accord, right? Surely,  _ surely _ she did not deceive him with intent. Their enemy must have made contact with her, convinced her - threatened her. Perhaps Aku promised to return her parents to her. Yes! That must be it. Though disappointed, he could understand her logic, her reason.

But she should have told him. He could help her! He fights anger, flexing his hands. “What have you done?”  _ Keep calm _ , he tells himself.  _ We will figure this out. _

And then...Ikra laughs. Her sinister grin morphs into one that is truly evil, and she meets his eyes, chest heaving in uproarious, mocking cackles. As her laughter grows, Jack’s heart sinks. That is not the behavior of an innocent woman.

His skin crawls. All the time they spent together, the moments they shared, the intimacy...was she truly an agent of Aku this entire time? The cackle echoes through the tropics. Ikra raises her hands to the sky.

As she revels in her villainy, her voice pitches lower, laugh becoming hauntingly and sickeningly familiar.

The ground sways. Jack’s stomach lurches. But it can’t be...it can’t. He swallows down bile and says, weakly, “Ikra?”

“No, fool!” Her beautiful body shifts, shadows moving about her lithe legs and slender waist until that horribly familiar form takes shape. The beautiful face is soon all that’s left of the woman Jack spent the past month traveling with, the evil grin huge and menacing. “It is I,” and, in Ikra’s voice to drive the point deeper, says, salaciously, “Aku.” Then, in his true voice, “Yes Samurai, you have been betrayed. I and Ikra are one and the same.”

A terrible, blind rage bubbles inside of Jack. He floats for a moment between the urge to strike and the urge to faint - the desire to die, to drop to the sand and let Aku kill him. His legs give out, and Jack falls to his knees, grasping handfuls of ground. “No…” His voice wavers and tears spring to his eyes. What he gave to Ikra...to Aku…

“Oh, yes,” Aku coos, looming menacing over him. “You see, I had a dream - no, a nightmare! - of a jewel that had the power to send you back in time.”

Jack can’t move, frozen, weak and humiliated in the dirt as Aku lords his victory over him. He wishes he would stop talking, would strike him down instead, end it once and for all.

“I knew that this was no mere dream,” Aku continues, “but a premonition. I had to destroy this powerful jewel, but I did not know its whereabouts.”

Jack led him right to it. He did the leg work. He dug up the map, talked to the locals...fought alongside Ikra--no,  _ Aku _ . They traveled through the desert together, and all this time Aku was using him, toying with him. The tale of her parents, her home, her family, all the things that made Jack trust her and want to help her...

“No,” he whimpers again. He trembles, tears spilling to the ground.

“Yes, Samurai. I knew you would find it.”

He did exactly that.

“Oh, my poor father,” Aku cries in mocking falsetto, “trapped in a ring of fire by  _ mean ole Aku.” _ He knows exactly what to say to hit Jack in his sympathies. Exactly how to manipulate him into doing anything he wanted. Laughter erupts again. “Fool!” Aku cackles.

He played him. Lied. Jack grits his teeth and glares up at his nemesis, vision blurry.

Aku continues to revel in sinister glee, declaring, “Fool!”

Jack’s heart pounds. His hands tremble and he grips his sword. The laughter echoes, stabbing deeper and deeper until he snaps, jumping to his feet and charging Aku with a mad cry, sword held high in the air.

Aku only laughs and jumps, taking a flying form and soaring into the sky just out of reach. Jack swings but cannot make contact with the fiend.

He raises a tight fist and rawly screams, “Fight me, you coward!” Blood pounds in his ears, devastation replaced with red hot anger.

“Soon we will fight - but not until I find a way to defeat you and your sword. Now, how did you put it?” Aku smirks. “Oh, yes. Your time on this miserable, Aku-infested land... _ continues _ .”

Jack clenches his jaw tight, gripping his sword with white knuckles and willing Aku to drop from the sky so he can cut him to a thousand pieces, and then cut those pieces into smaller ones still. He makes one last, feeble attempt to reach, swinging with blind fury.

Aku only laughs and flies away, evil cackles fading into the distance, leaving Jack alone in the empty desert Oasis.

Jack growls and screams, at the sky, at his enemy, at himself for being so foolish. He raises his sword and thrusts it into the sand, channeling his rage, and drops to his knees with a sob. He grips the hilt and finally cries. Anger. Anguish. Until his throat is raw and no more tears will come, and then he kneels for longer still. Aku’s laugh echoes in his mind.

Ikra’s sultry stare, Aku’s dirty hands on his body.

Jack leans forward and retches onto the ground. He coughs and sputters, not daring to move for several moments longer.

When the lingering nausea finally subsided, he wipes the tears from his face and forces himself to stand. Hands weak and trembling, he resheathes his sword. He slowly stripps, first the gi, then the fundoshi, and then even his sandals. He lays them in a neat pile, then strikes a piece of tinder to burn them. They were contaminated by Aku. By longing stares and Jack’s blindness, his inability to see through the ruse of evil. He’s half a mind to throw his whole body into the fire.

He lets down his hair, and more bile rises to his throat. Visions of Aku tangling his fingers into it, biting his neck, undressing him and touching him in ways he’s never let anyone touch him before…

With as much strength and calm as he can gather, Jack wades into the water. It’s cold and stings his flesh. He plunges in anyway, until his head is submerged, light and airy. The world grows quiet.

Hours pass before he climbs out. His flesh is raw and red from scrubbing, but he still feels dirty. The evening air is cold, but he’d rather freeze to death than touch those filthy rags worn while sleeping with the enemy. He finds meager shelter for the night.

Tomorrow, he will resume his quest. He’s not sure how he will find a way home, or what he will do to save the corrupted world, but he knows one thing for certain:

He will not rest until Aku is dead forever.

**Author's Note:**

> AHHHH so thank you for reading this. I've had a fic idea in my head for literal years, and I completed the first draft of this in like 2018 and then chickened out about posting it. I finally gave it a read, did some edits, and viola! Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Don't worry, I'm going to bring a softer, nicer smut fic to this website. Soon.
> 
> (ETA: I did just that; it's a Death Stranding fic, and I hope you all enjoy!)


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